


The Guardians

by katehicky (chaoticdeadshot)



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Boyd as Santa, Crossover, Derek as the Easter Bunny, Drabbles, Erica as the Tooth Fairy, Fluff, Humor, Isaac as the Sandman, Jackson as Cupid, Lydia as Mother Nature, M/M, Peter as Pitch, Stiles as Jack Frost, teeny tiny spoilers for the movie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-25
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-19 13:47:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/573923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaoticdeadshot/pseuds/katehicky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You don’t look much like a bunny,” he says with a wry grin. A grin that quickly disappears when Mr. Broody’s eyes change from hazel green to a glowing red.</p><p>“Like you said- it’s just a job title,” he says, showing off some wicked fangs.</p><p>Drabbles of Teen Wolf/Rise of the Guardians</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meet the Guardians

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So I saw Rise of the Guardian today, and it was awesome! And after I left the theatre, all I kept thinking about was how Stiles would be an awesome Jack Frost. And then that lead to another thing, and so- here we are! The story isn't really gonna be in chronological order, and it's not strictly following the film- I'm kinda doing what I want with it, little drabbles of whatever comes to mind. 
> 
> Let me know what you think! and if you're interested, I'm on tumblr- sassyasspeterhale

One minute he’s flying over Beacon Hills, making sure that the next day would be a guaranteed snow day, and the next he’s being shoved into a sack and thrown into a portal. One very jostled portal ride later, and Stiles pops his head out the red sack, his eyes growing wide in amazement. 

There are tiny elves running around, their bells jingling with every step. He can hear machines and horns and the wails of choo choo trains; the air smells like freshly baked cookies with a wooden undertone. He can see snow falling outside the window, and in the corner of the room a roaring fire is going. This can only be the North Pole. And that means-

“Whoa, _Santa_.” He stands tall and large, all muscle; he looks like he could take out a line backer. His red coat looks especially bright against his dark skin, and he doesn’t have a beard like most people describe him. He’s young and strong and clean shaven, but he’s undeniably Santa Claus. 

And he’s not alone. There’s a girl here as well, with long blonde hair and wings the color of the rainbow and a dazzling smile; she’s surrounded by what look like tiny little hummingbirds, all of them buzzing around happily as they flit back and forth. And then there’s a tall lanky boy with golden curls over by the fire place, draped over a cushiony armchair, deep asleep.

“Hello, Jack Frost. Welcome to the North Pole,” Santa says with a warm smile as he pulls Stiles to his feet.”

“Thanks. I gotta tell ya, being thrown in a sack and shoved through a magic portal- there’s nothing quite like it.” he says as he rubs the back of his neck.

“Good- that was my idea,” Santa says as crosses his muscular arms in front of him, an amused smile on his face. 

“Well look at you, Jack! I hear you have amazing teeth. Open up!” And all of a sudden, there are fingers in his mouth and long blonde hair in his face. “Ou ca all meh Shiles,” he garbles out as he tries not to bite the girl who could only be the Tooth Fairy. “What was that?”

“Hands out of the mouth,” Santa says.

“Oops, sorry.” She gives him a slightly embarrassed grin as she removes her fingers. He moves his jaw around a bit before saying, “Stiles. My name is Stiles. Jack Frost is just the job title.”

“Stiles. Alright. I’m Erica,” the blonde girl says as her wings flutter behind her. “Santa Claus goes by Boyd,” she says as Boyd tilts his head in greeting, “the Sandman over there likes to be called Isaac,” she points at a curly haired blond sleeping in the corner, “and Derek is the Easter Bunny.”

He must have missed the last one. Stiles turns around to see the last of the Guardians, and _whoa_. Definitely not a bunny. The guy’s ripped, not as big as Boyd, but certainly intimidating. For all intents and purposes, he looks human (a scary human, but a human none the less); still, Stiles can feel that there’s something powerful about this guy, under the surface.

“You don’t look much like a bunny,” he says with a wry grin. A grin that quickly disappears when Mr. Broody’s eyes change from hazel green to a glowing red.

“Like you said- it’s just a job title,” he says, showing off some wicked fangs.


	2. A Special Kid

Stiles watches from a tree branch as the boy makes his way out of the high school, wearing a sad pout on his face. He listens when the boy’s girlfriend comes running up behind him; he hears that he got a 67 on the test he had studied so hard for. “A 67, huh?” he mutters as he watches the two lovebirds head home, holding hands. 

“What ‘s so interesting about that kid?”

“Huh?” He looks around before he spots Derek leaning against the trunk of the tree he’s sitting in. “What are you doing here, Sourbunny? Don’t you have small woodland creatures to terrorize somewhere? Or eggs to hatch?”

“It’s November, smartass. The eggs don’t hatch until March. And I’m not hungry- I just ate lunch,” he grumbles as he also stares at the teenagers walking by, invisible to their eyes. “So?”

“So what?”

“What’s so special about the kid? This isn’t the first time I’ve seen you watching him.”

“What are you, a stalker now?” Stiles mumbles under his breath- not that it matters, since Derek hears it anyway and growls lowly in response. “Chill out. His name is Scott; he’s a good kid. Not always the brightest crayon in the box, but he means well. I like to make sure he’s ok every once in a while.”

“Why?”

“He was the first kid who ever really saw me- the first one that believed in me. In all of the hundreds of years I’ve been doing the job, he was the only one... So I keep tabs on him, just to make sure he’s ok.”

Silence falls between them, the only sounds coming from the kids heading home and the wind blowing through the autumn leaves. 

“He can’t see you anymore, though.” Not a question, a statement, that sounds just a bit sad. But maybe that’s just the way it’s carrying up to Stiles from below- there’s no reason for Derek to sound sad.

“Yeah. He turned thirteen, and he was too big to believe in Jack Frost anymore. But that’s what happens with every kid, I guess,” he replies, a wistful grin on his face trying to hide the sadness he felt at the loss of his first friend.

“I came to tell you that we’re all meeting at the North Pole later. Apparently Boyd wants our opinion on this year’s batch of toys.”

“Christmas is a month away, and Santa wants our opinions now?”

“You know how he gets this time of year.” Derek doesn’t flinch when Stiles jumps off the tree branch and lands beside him, his staff in hand. He puts a hand on the boy’s red frost-covered sweatshirt; it’s not pity, but empathy, and it makes Stiles feel a bit better. “You want to come with me, or were you planning on flying?”

“I’ll go with you- just hold on a minute.”

“Why-?”

“Shh! Here he comes!” 

“Here comes who?”

“Do you not know what ‘shh’ means?” 

“It’s not like anyone can hear us.”

“Dude, not the point! Now shh!”

Derek watches as Stiles sneaks over to the entrance of the school and hides near the base of the steps, crouching out of sight and wiggling his fingers on his staff in anticipation. Why Stiles insists on hiding, he has no idea; but it’s such a Stiles thing to do, and he can’t help but grin a bit. An older man walks out of the school and down the steps, glaring at a stack of papers in his hands; he’s not looking ahead of him, and doesn’t see the quickly forming ice gathering at the bottom. One step, two, and then- A rather unmanly shriek sounds out as the man slides on the ice, sending his papers flying through the air. Laughter quickly replaces the scream, with Stiles being the loudest one of them all, holding his sides as he rolled around mid-air.

A few minutes later, when Stiles had finally finished the last of his giggles, Derek asked,” What was that all about?”

“Oh, just having a it of fun is all. That guy’s a dick- Scott studied really hard for this test, I know he did, and that jerk gave him a 67 cause they don’t like each other. Totally not fair, so I decided to even it out.”

“Isn’t that a bit childish of you?”

“You know what they say, man. Revenge is a dish best served cold.” Stiles gives him a wicked grin, and Derek rolls his eyes in return, making sure not to show the amusement he felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any ideas, suggestions, or requests for what I should right next, please leave a comment.
> 
> And if you're interested, I'm on tumblr- sassyasspeterhale


	3. A Bad Joke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Etlune asked if I would do the Laundromat scene- how could I not?  
> Rather short, but I like it well enough :)

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Derek muttered as he waited for Isaac to get his ten dollars worth of coins from the coin machine. 

“Cheer up, Thumper- it’s not like anyone can see us. But I gotta tell ya, I wish I had a camera right about now. Seriously, this is hysterical." 

“Shut up, Stiles.”

“Oh, come on- this is like a set up to a joke. ‘The Toothfairy, the Sandman, Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and Jack Frost were waiting on line at a Laundromat to get some coins. The Easter Bunny said to the Toothfairy-’”

“-if Jack doesn’t shut his trap, I’m going to rip his throat out-”

“-with my teeth!” the rest of the line chorused, with Isaac humming along.

“I hate all of you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any ideas, suggestions, prompts, or requests for what I should right next, please let me know!
> 
> And if you're interested, I'm on tumblr- sassyasspeterhale


	4. Pitch Black

“Jack Frost.”

He spins around at the sound of his name, readying his staff for a fight. But there’s no one there in the dark alley way- just shadows cast from the street lamps at the mouth of the passageway. Still, he keeps his guards up- something’s not right.

“Aren’t you interesting. I hear that the Guardians have made you their new play thing.”

“Who are you?” he shouts as he whips around, looking for the source of the voice; the frosted hair on the back of his neck raised in growing dread. Whoever it was had an oily voice, smooth and slick and dirty, and it frightened Stiles more than he cared to admit. It had been a long time since he had ever been nervous like this.

“How does it feel? To know that all you’ll ever be to them is backup? That when the problems are solved and you’ve done what they want, they’ll cast you to the side like a broken toy.”

“Shut up!” 

Stiles sends icy attack blasts to both ends of the alley, hoping to hit a target, but all he accomplishes is freezing a telephone pole and shorting out a transformer, sending Main Street into darkness and the alleyway into darker shadows.

“It scares you, doesn’t it? To know that at the end of the day, you’ll never be anything to them. You’ll never be a Guardian. You can’t save anyone. You can’t even save yourself.”

“ _Where are you_?” he screams, whirling around once again. And standing toe to toe with him is a man, an immortal, with a smirk on his face and hell in his eyes.

“Right here,” he whispers, before he quickly raises his hand and blows black dust right into Stiles’ face. He breathes it in, and darkness swallows him whole.

~

_He’s cold, colder than he’s ever been in his life. His body thrashes in the water, looking for the hole he fell through; but in the darkness of the night, with only the moon giving a bit of light from behind the clouds, he cannot find his way out from underneath the ice of the lake. He had gasped a quick breath of air right before he plunged into the water, but it wasn’t enough. Even with his eyes closed, he sees black spots in his vision, and his head feels like it’s about to explode; but he can’t give in, not now, not when mom and dad need his help. He can’t let them down, he can’t._

_But it’s too much; he doesn’t mean to, but he lets his breath go. Ice cold water fills his lungs, chills him to the bone, seeps into his soul, and as he sinks to the bottom of the lake, all he can think is ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I let you down. I’m sorry.’_

_Falling, falling, farther and farther down, falling-_

_A warm hand grabs his cold one._

_Another hand gently rests against his stilling heart, warm and brilliant as the sun._

_Come back, Stiles. Come back to us._

_And then he’s being tugged toward the surface, faster and faster, he’s flying toward the moon that’s huge and bright and glowing gold-_

_He breaks through the ice. He breathes. He wakes up._

~

“Stiles? Come on, Stiles, can you hear me?”

“Is he okay?”

He opens his eyes slowly- it’s a battle and a half just to keep them from closing again, he’s so tired. His body aches, his chest especially, but he seems to be in one piece, which is better than nothing. He’s at the North Pole again, and his friends are staring down at him with worried faces. “My chest hurts,” he mumbles. 

“That’s what happens when your heart stops for 3 minutes,” Boyd says with a frown on his face and his arms crossed, but his relief is obvious in his eyes. “If it hadn’t been for Isaac, you probably wouldn’t have made it.”

Isaac, who Stiles just realized was kneeling on the floor next to him, still had his hand on top of his chest, warm against the chill of his skin. Stiles gives him a grateful smile, which the Sandman returns; he bends down lower and rests his forehead against Stiles’, his way of showing his relief and love and caring when he had no words to share.

“One of my fairies found you while it was on a tooth run. You had collapsed in the middle of a back alley,” Erica explains as she hold Stiles’ hand, rubbing circles on the back of his palm, as if to make sure he was still there and alive and okay. “We brought you back here, but we couldn’t figure out what was wrong until Isaac noticed the black sand. We almost lost you,” she whimpers. He squeezes her hand a bit, and she squeezes back twice as hard. “What happened to you, Stiles?”

He closes his eyes, and tries to remember what happened before the lake. “There was a man- an immortal, like us. He was- wrong. Everything about him was wrong. He talked to me, made me afraid. There was no light, I couldn’t see him, and then he was right in my face, and he- he blew this black stuff in my face. I think I breathed it in, and then-” He stops, his eyes watering as he remembered what came next.

“You had nightmares,” Derek says, his eyes blood red and his fists clenched in anger.

“I was so scared,” he says, his pain and exhaustion stopping him from filtering his thoughts. “I was drowning again, and I let them down- it was all my fault, I let them down, I tried to swim but I couldn’t find the hole again and I was so scared.”

Strong arms wrap around him, and all of a sudden he’s being cradled in Derek’s lap, his head lying in the crook of his neck. “You’re okay now. You’re safe- we’ll keep you safe.”

“Don’t leave,” Stiles whispers, and he knows he’s going to be embarrassed about this later, but he can’t be alone, not now.

“We’re pretty sure you’re okay, but we don’t know if you’re one hundred percent, yet. One of us will be with you through the night, to make sure you’re alright,” Boyd tells him. “You won’t be alone.” 

“Go to sleep, Stiles. I won’t leave,” Derek whispers in his ear.

“Thank you,” he says, and then succumbs to a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any ideas, suggestions, prompts, or requests for what I should right next, please let me know!
> 
> And if you're interested, I'm on tumblr- sassyasspeterhale


	5. Valentine's Day

“Hey, dickcicle. What do you think you’re doing?”

 Stiles’ shoulders sagged, resigned to having to deal this douchebag again, before plastering his most irritating smile on his face. “Hey there, sexy,” he says as he whirls around in the air. “How you doin’?”

 Cupid’s face was practically red in his fury; his hands are clenched into fists, arms crossed over his shirtless, chiseled chest. The asshole was only wearing a pair of extremely tight red leather pants and black lace-up boots that went up to mid-shin, completing his look with a quiver of arrows and his bow strapped across his back. 

“How are you not cold right now?” Stiles can’t help but ask. “It’s the middle of February.”

 “Exactly!” Cupid yelled. “It’s _exactly_ the middle of February. February 14th. Do you know what that means?”

 “Ummm.... that winter is almost over and that I should get in one more really awesome blizzard?”

 “No!” Cupid grabs a fistful of Stile’s hoodie and yanks him so close that they’re practically nose to nose. “It means today is Valentine’s Day- it’s MY holiday! I’m supposed to be out there shooting up lovers on their dates- how am I supposed to do that if no one goes out cause of your damn snow storm!?”

 “What’s the big deal? It’s not like you only operate once a year. Just wait until next week.”

 “But this is my holiday!”

 “Yeah! And it’s also the middle of winter, which means this is my domain just as much, if not more so than yours! Chill the fuck out!”

 “Boys.”

 They both whip their heads to the right, and freeze at the sight of the red-headed beauty standing there, arms crossed and a sickly sweet ‘you’re-ticking-me-off’ smile plastered on her face. She’s wearing a green sundress with brown vines for a belt around her waist; her feet are bare and stained with soil. She has white carnations and baby’s breath tucked in her hair- Stiles has never seen anything more beautiful.

 “What’s the problem here, Jackson? And who is this?”

 “This idiot is-”

 “I’m Jack. Jack Frost. But you can call me Stiles. Or Jack. Actually, you can call me anything. Are you free later?” he babbles as he waves his hand at the gorgeous goddess standing in front of him. “And what should I call you?”

 “Mother Nature,” she says dryly as she stares at him in what could be called apathetic fascination ( _as long as she’s looking my way, it doesn’t really matter, does it?_ ). “But that’s a mouthful. Lydia works fine.”

 “This frosted flake is ruining Valentine’s Day,” Jackson bursts in, ruining Stiles’ amazing conversation with the love of his life. “Lydia, talk reason to this idiot, please.”

 “It’s the winter time- I have just as much right to do my thing as he does.”

 “Enough. You’re acting like a pair of spoiled brats. Jackson, it’s Valentine’s Day all over the world, not just in California. Go somewhere else.” Cupid huffed indignantly and stalked off, muttering threats all the way. “And Stiles, try not to make this Valentine blizzard a yearly thing, alright?”

 “Alright,” he says as his shoulder’s slump. He was only having a bit of fun.

 “Right then, I’m heading south. The Amazon is rather nice this time of year,” Lydia says. “It was... interesting to meet you, Stiles. I suppose I’ll see you around.” And with that she turns around and melts into the trees, leaving no footprints behind in the snow. 

 “She thinks I’m interesting,” Stiles whispers to himself in joy. “Yes!”

 It had been a long time since Stiles had in been in such a great mood. The kids in Beacon Hills have snow days for the rest of February that year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long- I'm being swamped with essays and finals right now. 
> 
> If you have any ideas/prompts/suggestions, please let me know!
> 
> And if you're interested I'm on tumblr- sassyasspeterhale


	6. The Last Gift

As December 25th loomed closer, Santoff Claussen became a madhouse. The elves and yetis were crazed with their work, painting and nailing and wrapping like they were possessed, trying to get all of the presents ready before Christmas Eve. Boyd hardly slept, running back and forth, checking and double-checking the Naughty and Nice lists, making sure that everything was on schedule and going according to plan. 

The other Guardians dropped in every once in a while to help with whatever Boyd needed them to do, but Stiles hung around the most often. Of course, it might have to do with the fact that he had a room at the North Pole, but after three hundred years of solitude, he still wasn’t used to so much social interaction; he often just flew where the winds took him, and returned only every once in a while. Now though, as the holiday season came into full swing, Stiles stayed in the workshop because he was curious. Watching the yetis tinkering away at tiny fire engines and robots fascinated him; he liked to suggest paint colors for the doll houses, and enjoyed testing out prototypes to see if they were working correctly. The yetis grumbled in annoyance, but they secretly enjoyed having Stiles there with them; it was the closest they would ever get to watching a child play with their work.

“I get that Christmas is fun and all, but what’s got you so excited? They’re just toys,” Derek commented one day as he watched the winter spirit watched a moving train set with rapt attention. 

“I’ve never had a toy of my own before,” the boy answers distractedly, not taking his eyes away from the train as it made its way through a tunnel. He does not see Derek frown behind him.

“You’ve never had a toy?”

“Top of the Naughty list, remember?” Stiles says as he looks back at Derek and shoots him a devilish smirk. The man only hums in acknowledgement as he watches Stiles move on to a Nerf gun testing range, cackling with glee as he shoots frozen orange ammunition at the elves.

 

~

 

The entirety of the North Pole is gathered in the main hall, watching Santa Claus’s progression as a tiny red sleigh zips from country to country around the huge golden globe. Stiles watches the other spirits and Guardians from the rafters above, not knowing how to act around so many new people. He is not alone, though; Isaac is spread out on the rafter next to him, soundlessly snoring as he naps before the festivities begin. Stiles’ heart warms at the sight; he is thankful for having a friend like Isaac, who always tries to include him, even if that means napping by his side so that he’s not alone.

Stiles has always liked Christmas- he liked to look inside windows and watch the kids open their presents and play with their toys. It brought joy to his heart when he saw them smile so big. He would hum carols as he covered towns in light dustings of snow, enough to give everyone a white Christmas they always sang about. But it always did make him feel a bit lonely; he had always been alone on Christmas, not seen by any of the children, never invited to Santa’s party up north. This was his first year spending Christmas at the North Pole- his first Christmas spending it with anyone, and it made him feel a bit out of place, not knowing what to do. So he kept to the rafters, watching on with the Sandman at this side.

“Hot chocolate?” He’s pulled out of his thoughts when Erika flutters in front of him in the air, a steaming mug in her hands. She holds it out to him with a smile on her face, and Stiles returns one to her as he gives his thanks and takes it from her. The first sip he takes is delicious, but uncomfortably hot for him; he quickly blows on the mug, icing it over and cooling the drink inside. When he takes another sip, the drink is cool and sweet; he smiles into his mug as he drinks a bit more.

“You having fun?” he asks her as he lowers the cup from his lips.

“Oh yes- Boyd always throws a wonderful party. And it’s nice to see some of the others; I just get so busy sometimes, it’s nice to relax for a bit with friends.” Stiles nods in agreement as he watches the tiny sleigh slowly start to make its way back north again. “What about you, are you having fun?” she asks him as she sits herself beside him, beginning to gently run her fingers through Isaac’s golden curls.

“Tons of fun. Just taking a bit of a breather up here,” he explains to her. “I guess I’m not used to being around so many people.”

“It can be a bit overwhelming, sometimes. It’s not often that we’re surrounded by others, not when we’re so busy with our jobs,” she says in agreement. Stiles is grateful that she doesn’t bring up the fact that this is obviously his first party; she’s helping him fit in, just like Isaac is, and Stiles counts his blessings for his new friends.

The party below gives an excited shout as the little red sleigh rapidly approaches Santoff Claussen. “He’s almost here!” Erika says excitedly as she jumps off the rafter and flutters around Isaac, shaking him awake. “Wake up, Sandy, Boyd’s almost here!” Isaac rubs golden dust out of the corners of his eyes before rolling out of his spot and flying down with the Tooth Fairy to join the others. Stiles stays where he is, content with watching all of the excitement from above.

The party quiets down into excited whispers when Boyd’s sleigh finally lands, and when the man himself walks into the room, looking tired, no one makes a noise. Santa looks around the room with a serious face; everyone holds their breath in anticipation as they wait for him to speak. And then a huge smile spreads over his face, and in a deep, booming voice he shouts “Success!”

The hall explodes with elated cheers as the elves hugg each other and the yetis pat each other on the back for another job well done. Boyd walks through the party with his red velvet toy bag strung over his broad shoulder, greeting his friends as he passes by and heads for the front of the hall. Stiles watches Erika and Isaac go over to stand by Derek, who had been leaning up against a pillar near the fire place; the Easter Bunny wasn’t very fond of the coldness that the North exuded (which Stiles found hilarious- how could anyone not like winter weather?)

“My friends,” Boyd booms out, “It is time to give out the last of the presents!” The hall cheers is response. Stiles watches as the man in red calls out each of the spirits and immortals and hands them a gift pulled out of his never-ending satchel. Lydia is given a pot of blood red poinsettias; Derek is handed a pair of easter eggs with golden etchings on the sides; Isaac receives a new set of royal blue silk pajamas; Jackson gets a new quiver; Erika is given beautiful gold earrings and a necklace to match. The winter spirit watches as the satchel empties out, and cannot help but feel a bit left out when his name is never called. But he knew this would happen; he was on the top of the Naughty list, after all. But then Boyd looks up at him and says, “Jack Frost! Get down from there, or you won’t get your present.”

Stiles’ eyes go wide at this; his breath catches in his chest. There was a present... for him? He couldn’t believe it. Maybe it was a joke, or maybe Boyd had made a mistake; he shouldn’t be getting a gift, right?

“Come on, Frostbite,” Derek called out with a smirk on his face. “You don’t get down here and I’m gonna take it for myself.”

At that Stiles quickly jumps out of the rafters with his staff in hand, and makes his way through the crowd until he’s standing before Boyd, who’s giving him a smile of his own. “I really get a present?” ha asks quietly, trying to quell the excitement growing in his chest in case Boyd’s satchel was empty. But Boyd reaches into the bag and pulls out a box wrapped in dark blue paper and topped with a light blue bow, and hands it to Stiles with a small smile and a subtle wink. 

Stiles takes the box in his hands gently, marveling at how pretty it is as he sinks down to sit on the floor. He carefully removes the ribbon and tucks it into his pocket before unwrapping the blue paper, making sure not to rip it. He doesn’t notice his friends gathering around him, watching him unwrap his gift with fond expressions on their faces; all he’s focused on his the white box in front of him, ready to be opened. He rubs a pale hand across the top of the box before he fingers the lid off and looks inside. The other Guardians smile as they watch their friend’s face glow with happiness when he sees his gift.

It’s a small stuffed wolf toy, with soft black fur and brilliant blue eyes. The legs flop around when the boy takes it out of the box; he grabs a foot and rubs it between his fingers, almost as if he’s shaking it’s paw in greeting. He pets the toy’s fur in reverence as he looks at it before he brings it close to him and hugs it, wearing a brilliant smile on his face.

“Thank you,” he says quietly before he gets up and hugs each of his friends. They all just smile and wish him a merry Christmas as they hug him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cackle at the idea of giving Stiles a Nerf gun with ammunition- no one would be safe. 
> 
> If you're interested, I'm on tumblr- sassyasspeterhale


	7. Best Friends

“Snow day!” Stiles yelled as he flew down the main street of Beacon Hills, tapping his staff here and there to spread his frost. The winds he rides in on carry millions of snowflakes, guaranteeing that the small California town would have no school today. He smirks as he listens to the adults grumble about “snow in California- I moved here for the sun, dammit,” and laughs when the children rush outside, shouting and jumping and excited to play. 

He lands by a group of kids, and takes the honor of throwing the first snowball. The kid sputters in shock when cold snow hits him right in the face, before he gathers up a snowball of his own and throws it at another boy, screaming “Snowball fight!” like a soldier going to war.

The battle begins, and it takes about five minutes for the two opposing sides to dissolve into a free-for-all. Stiles throws snowballs here and there (he does feel a bit bad for hitting a kid named Matt in the face and knocking him into the town fountain- hopefully there’s no hard feelings there), but for the most part he just leans against his shepherd’s crook and watches the children romp around, smiling at their playful antics. He’s happy that they’re having so much fun- but still, he wished that he could really play with them. He can start the fun, throw the first snowball, supply the ammo, but they don’t throw snowballs back at him. They don’t call his name. And when he’s not paying attention, the kids run right through him, leaving pins and needles, and an ache in his chest. He wishes someone could see him. 

It takes him a few seconds to realize that something is tugging at his cloak- maybe he got it caught on a branch? It wouldn’t be the first time. But when he looks down, it’s not a branch tugging at him- it’s a tiny gloved hand, attached to a boy who looks about eight years old. A boy who is looking up at him. And touching his clothes. Not sliding right through it- actually grabbing his clothes!

“Can you see me?” he whispers to the kid, afraid if he speaks any louder he’ll break the spell and disappear again.

The kid nods, still staring straight at him. “Are you really Jack Frost?” he asks curiously.

Shock, amazement, joy fills Stiles, his heart swelling to burst. “Yeah- yes! That’s me, I’m Jack Frost!” he laughs out, giving the kid a huge smile as he jumps up and down in excitement. “You can see me!” He kneels down to look the boy in the eye. “What’s your name?”

“My name is Scott McCall,” he says proudly, with a cheeky grin on his face. “I knew you were real- my dad said you weren’t, but Doc Deaton told me all about you, so I knew it was you when I saw you, cause you flew in the air and you’re covered in snow and you don’t wear shoes and-”

“Scott, breathe! You’re turning blue, buddy.” Stiles watched as Scott took a deep breath, amused by the kid’s excitement. But he couldn’t really judge- he was really excited, too. 

“Why don’t you wear a jacket? It’s really cold out here!”

_And of course_ , Stiles thinks to himself, _a kid would ask about not wearing a jacket when there were no shoes on his feet_. “I have my cloak.”

“But it’s got holes and it’s ripped. And you can’t close it up- my mom says that if you don’t zip up your coat you’ll get sick.” 

Stiles can’t help but wince at that as he looked over his shoulder at his old brown cloak. It was bound to get some wear and tear- it _was_ nearly three hundred years old. But he didn’t want to go without it- without _something._ True, he wasn’t effected by the cold like others were- he even ran at a lower temperature!- but the idea of being out in a blizzard or the Arctic Circle without at least something to wear made him feel disarmed, like going into battle without armor.

“I don’t have anything else to wear. This is all I got,” he explained. Scott only looked up at him, arms crossed in front of his chest and his eyebrows scrunched together, like he was trying to figure something out. And then, as if a lightbulb went off in his head, a huge smile spread over his face. He grabbed Stiles’ hand ( _he’s grabbing my hand this is incredible he’s touching me!_ ) and said, “Come on! I know what to do!”

He tugs and pulls Stiles away from the snow ball fight, out of the park and across the street and into the front yard of a house on the corner. “Wait here a second!” he shouts as he lets go of Stiles and runs into the house, slamming the door behind him. Stiles stands in the front yard, not quite sure what to do, when a window opens on the second floor and a head pops out with a grin. “Come on, I’ve got something for you.”

Puzzled and more than a bit excited, the spirit leaps up into the air, letting the wind carry him to the window ledge. He peers into the room, which is obviously Scott’s- there are dinosaur toys on the ground and blue stars painted on the walls and ceiling, with a messy bed tucked up underneath the open window. Scott is kneeling on top of his rumpled covers, with his hands hidden behind his back and a gigantic grin on his face. 

“I don’t have a winter jacket for you, I couldn’t find one that would fit, cause you’re bigger than me but you’re much smaller than my dad and you don’t want to wear my mom’s girly coats, but this is for you!” He whips his hands out in front of him, and displays a red sweatshirt, one with a hood and stringy things hanging on the front and pockets and a shiny sliver zipper. “Dad sent it to me in the mail as a Christmas present this year, but it’s too big for me and my favorite color is green, so you should have it. That way you have a jacket that doesn’t have holes in it. Do you like it?”

Stiles can feel tears burning in his eyes, but refuses to cry. “It’s really for me?” 

“Yeah. If you want, it can be a late Christmas present. Do you like it?” he asks again.

The spirit throws on a shaky grin. “Scott, I love it. Thank you so much.” And he does. Even if it had been too small, or torn apart, or ugly- Stiles would have loved it, cherished it. No one had ever given him a gift before.

“Try it on,” the boy insists as he holds it out for Stiles to take. With quick fingers Stiles undoes the clasp on his cloak, letting it slide off without a thought, and then reaches out to take the gift. It’s soft as he rubs it between his fingers, and when he slips it on he revels in how cozy the thing is. He slowly zips up the front and throws the hood over his head, letting the material settle around his face. It fits perfectly, as if it were made just for him.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he says as he leans forward to hug Scott tightly. The boy hugs back just as tight, and nuzzles his face in his shoulder. 

After they let each other go, Stiles smiles and says, “Why don’t we go test it out? Make sure it’s properly prepared for the snow?”

“Yeah! Snow ball fight!”

They play and chase each other for the rest of the day, laughing and shouting as they throw snow balls at each other. Stiles couldn’t remember ever having so much fun before. They only stop when they hear “Scott! Time for dinner!”

“Guess it’s time for me to go,” Stiles says, a bit sad that their day together was over.

“But you’ll come back, right? You’ll come back and see me?” Scott asks with a frown on his face. 

Stiles smiles and kneels down in front of the boy, making them eye to eye. “You’re my best friend, Scott. Of course I’ll come back.”

The boy’s smile was blinding. “You’re my best friend too, Jack.”

“Can you keep a secret?” Scott nods frantically. “My name’s not really Jack. That’s just my job title.”

“Then what’s your real name?”

“It’s Stiles. Don’t tell anyone, okay? This will be our little secret, just for us. A best friend secret.” 

“Okay,” Scott agrees. “Come back soon, Stiles, okay?”

“I promise.” And with that Scott give him one last smile before running home, and Stiles let the wind carry him north, whipping his new red hoodie around in the breeze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually wrote a draft of this out a while ago, but I was never really happy with it. I finally tweaked it around, and now, finally, I have a version that satisfies me.   
> If you have any prompts/ideas/requests, please send me a message either here or on tumblr, sassyasspeterhale .


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